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Yuletide Greetings
Mrs. Spooky walks to work, carrying two brown paper bags, one significantly bigger than the other. There’s a slight spring in her step as she maneuvers carefully around the congested streets, trying not to be knocked over by the hurrying crowds.
“Aren’t you worried that Kira will try to find you?”
Mrs. Spooky glances up at the creature flying beside her. “Not really,” she says. “It’s not like Kira knows who I am. What can he do to me? Last night you told me the Christmas Note won’t let anyone die.”
“…Who?…How?…What?...,” Mrs. Spooky stutters.
“Don’t look so shocked; surely you knew I was going to show up sooner or later,” the creature says uncrossing her legs, the tiny bells jingling softly. “Anyway, my name’s Mafia and that’s my Christmas Note you got.”
Mrs. Spooky closes her eyes, muttering to herself, “It’s not real. It’s not real.” She opens her eyes to find Mafia smiling.
“Still here,” Mafia says. She stands up from the couch and flies over to Mrs. Spooky. “What’s up with you? Didn’t you read the note?”
“What note?” Mrs. Spooky asks, waving away tiny snowflakes falling down on her.
Mafia floats down to stand in front of Mrs. Spooky and rolls her eyes. “Don’t you American’s read anymore.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The notebook!” Mafia exclaims. “My notebook! The one you found. It’s green and has a red tree on the cover.”
Mrs. Spooky’s eyes widen. “That’s yours.”
“Didn’t I just tell you that,” Mafia exasperates. “Where is it anyway? You shouldn’t leave my notebook lying around.” She stares Mrs. Spooky sternly in the eyes.
“It’s…it’s in my purse,” Mrs. Spooky says taken back.
“Well…go get it,” Mafia says shooing Mrs. Spooky away with her hands.
Mrs. Spooky takes a few steps backward, staring at Mafia. Mafia continues to shoo her away, and with one final look, Mrs. Spooky reenters the kitchen. She removes the Christmas Note from her purse, staring at the green cover with the red tree embossed across the front. Staring at the notebook, she thinks, ‘What is going on?”
“Did you find it yet?” Mafia says coming up behind her and looking over Mrs. Spooky’s shoulder. “Yep. That’s it.”
“I found this on the floor…”
“Right beside you locker, I know,” Mafia says gliding around the counter to face Mrs. Spooky. “That’s where I dropped it. I knew you were the perfect person to help me.”
Mrs. Spooky looks up from the notebook into Mafia’s bright green eyes. “What do you want me to help you with?”
“Spreading the Christmas spirit!” Mafia smiles gently at Mrs. Spooky as she begins to explain. “That’s my job, but I can recruit humans to help me. Every year, we Ghosts of Christmas…”
“Ghosts of Christmas?”
“That’s what I am, and don’t interrupt,” Mafia says. “We don’t have much time. Christmas comes but once a year, and passes quickly. We only have until the final day of the Twelve Days of Christmas before I have to take my notebook back. Now…where was I… ah yes, every year, we Ghosts of Christmas try to spread the Christmas spirit here on Earth, and I must say each year it gets harder. So many humans are becoming more and more obsessed with material things, that they lose the true meaning of Christmas.”
“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Mrs. Spooky interjects.
“Really,” Mafia says. “You weren’t disgusted by your boss’ shameless means of making a quick buck? Or the various customers who spend money on children who think not having the newest, biggest, most expensive thing to hit the market since last year means they are deprived someway? Or the ones that fight over the same item, often times causing real injury to each other? Or how about…”
“Okay…okay, I get your point,” Mrs. Spooky says holding up her hand. “I still don’t think it’s that bad. I have faith that there are those that understand and value the true meaning of Christmas.”
“And that’s why I chose you,” Mafia states with a sparkle in her eyes. “The very fact that you see these things but still believe in the good of humanity proves that you are the right person for the job.”
“Spreading the Christmas spirit,” Mrs. Spooky says questionably.
“Exactly,” Mafia says. “But before you can do that, you need to understand how my notebook works.”
Mrs. Spooky sits down a stool by the counter. “Let’s say you’re not a dream or a figment of my imagination…how does this notebook work.”
“It’s simple really,” Mafia says flipping open the cover of the notebook. Mrs. Spooky looks down and reads words she didn’t see before. “Right here,” Mafia continues, “I wrote that I would appear before you within twelve hours of you using the notebook.”
“I never used this notebook,” Mrs. Spooky says.
“Didn’t you write this name?” Mafia points at Lover’s name written on the first page. “Cause that’s the only reason I would have appeared.”
Mrs. Spooky stares down at Lover’s name. “I did…but I only wanted to remind myself to get him something for Christmas.”
“You should really read the instructions before using something you don’t understand,” Mafia admonishes. “The Christmas Note is a powerful tool in helping to spread the Christmas spirit. Every name written is connected with a real person, and that person will be compelled to express the Christmas spirit…one way or another.”
Mrs. Spooky looks up at Mafia. “What do you mean, one way or another?”
“When I write in my notebook, the name of a human, I also write how that person is to express the Christmas spirit. If I don’t, the default means kicks in,” Mafia says.
“Default?”
“Singing Christmas carols,” Mafia says. “If the means of expression aren’t written next to the name, the person continuously sings Christmas carols until after the Twelfth Day of Christmas.”
“So, Lover’s going to be singing Christmas carols till to Christmas.”
“Not exactly the Christmas present you was thinking of,” Mafia chuckles.
“This isn’t funny!” Mrs. Spooky yells. “You just told me that Lover is going to be stuck singing Christmas carols till Christmas.”
“Not the Christmas present you had in mind hunh?” Mafia laughs.
“Not really…no,” Mrs. Spooky whispers.
“Well, poor Lover’s going to be stuck singing Christmas carols until the effects of the Christmas Note wear off,” Mafia says, “but I never said that would end on Christmas.”
“You said…”
“I said the effects of the Christmas Note will stay in effect until after the Twelfth Day of Christmas,” Mafia continues. “It’s a common misconception that the Twelve Days of Christmas start twelve days before Christmas and end on Christmas day. Actually, the Twelve Days of Christmas start on Christmas day and continue until sundown on January 5th, or either midnight or dawn on January 6th.”
“Lover’s going to be stuck singing carols until January!” Mrs. Spooky exclaims.
Mafia shrugs her shoulders. “That’s what happens when you write a name down without any instructions.”
“What kind of instructions?”
“Nothing fancy,” Mafia says, “just some means for the person to express the Christmas spirit. It could be something as simple as saying Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, or whatever politically correct term is used, or something more detailed, but if it’s only a name then that person is stuck singing Christmas carols. Once a name is written, that person has to express the Christmas spirit and will continue to do so until the end of the Christmas season.”
Mrs. Spooky picks up the Christmas Note and examines it closely. “So…as long as I write details for how the person is to express the Christmas spirit, I can write down anyone.”
Mafia claps her hands. “I knew you were the right person to help me spread Christmas joy!”
“I’m not saying I’m going to do it,” Mrs. Spooky cautions.
“Even if I told you you could prevent people from dying,” Mafia says smiling. Mrs. Spooky stares at the Ghost of Christmas. Mafia leans in closer to her. “Anyone written in the Christmas Note cannot die.”
“Anyone?” Mrs. Spooky stares into the Ghost of Christmas’ eyes.
“People dying puts a damper on the Christmas spirit,” Mafia says, “so anyone written in the Christmas Note can’t die.”
“So, if I wrote down the names of…oh I don’t know…prisoners…”
Mafia smiles. “They wouldn’t die.”
“But you didn’t write your name,” Mafia continues, “so the Christmas Note can’t protect you. Anyway, it doesn’t last forever. Once the Christmas season is over, everyone who was supposed to die will die.”
Mrs. Spooky stops walking and stares up at the Ghost of Christmas. “You didn’t tell me that.”
“Would it have made a difference?” Mafia asks. “Wouldn’t you have still written those prisoners name down?”
“Well, yeah,” Mrs. Spooky says sheepishly, “I still would have. I was just hoping that Kira wouldn’t be able to kill them.”
Mafia stares down at Mrs. Spooky, thinking about something. Finally, she says, “”The means which Kira uses to kill are absolute. Nothing can permanently prevent those deaths.”
“Talking to yourself is never a good sign.”
Mrs. Spooky whips around and sees a homeless woman standing in the alleyway. “Cid! I didn’t see you there.”
“How could you?” Cid replies smiling. “You were busy carrying on a conversation with yourself.”
“Oh yeah,” Mafia says peering closely at Cid. “I forgot to tell you…only you can see me. Well you and anyone else who touches the Christmas Note.” Mrs. Spooky narrows her eyes at Mafia, who shrugs. “Sorry.”
“Well, you know what they say,” Mrs. Spooky says looking back at Cid, who stares at her with a quizzical look, “‘the most intelligent conversations one can have is with themselves.’”
“Who says that?” Cid asks.
“Nevermind,” Mrs. Spooky replies. She holds out one of the brown paper bags, the larger of the two. “Here, I brought you something.”
“You didn’t have too,” Cid says reaching out and exposing her threadbare gloves to the cold.
“It was my pleasure,” Mrs. Spooky says as Cid takes the bag. “Now, remember what I told you…if it gets too cold out here, you are more than welcome to spend the night at my apartment.”
Cid peeks into the bag. “That’s very nice of you, but I don’t want you to get into trouble with your landlord.”
“It won’t be any trouble,” Mrs. Spooky says gently. “I’m allowed to have guests, even four-legged ones.”
Cid smiles up at Mrs. Spooky. “Thank you.”
Mrs. Spooky smiles back at Cid, her smile just a little sadder. “You’re welcome…but remember what I said. I’d sleep better at night if I knew you had a warm bed. I want you to promise me that if it gets too cold you will come spend the night.”
“I promise,” Cid says.
“Okay than,” Mrs. Spooky says. “I’m keeping you to that.” She looks down at her watch. “I need to get going, before I’m late for work.”
Mafia looks curiously at Cid before flying off to follow Mrs. Spooky down the street. “What was that about?” she asks once she catches up to her.
Mrs. Spooky stops at the corner and looks back at Cid. Cid is sitting on a broken box at the end of the alleyway. She removes a small tin can out of the bag before reaching into her worn coat and pulling out a tiny, tiger-striped kitten. She sits the kitten down at her feet and places the tin can in front of the kitten. “Cid knows my landlord doesn’t tolerate pets, and she won’t leave that kitten alone, so she always refuses to spend the night.”
“Oh,” Mafia says staring back at Cid, who now has taken a sandwich from the bag.
“You know what always amazes me?” Mrs. Spooky asks as the light changes and she crosses the street.
“What?” Mafia asks flying beside her.
“That the people who have the least always share more of what they have,” Mrs. Spooky answers.
***************************
“Is something wrong?” Inufan asks dragging a tree through the door.
“Yes,” Lupin answers. “It seems that various prisoners are acting unusually.”
Inufan fights with the tree, trying to stand it up. “What do you mean acting unusually?”
Lupin spins his chair away from the computer to face Inufan. “What is that?”
Inufan looks up, wiping hair out of her eyes. “What this?” she asks looking from Lupin’s pointing finger to the tree. “A Christmas Tree.”
“I can see that,” Lupin says. “Why is it here?”
“I thought this place could use a little Christmas cheering up,” Inufan says finally managing to straighten the tree. “There, now all we need to do is decorate it.”
“Decorating can wait,” Lupin says swinging back to his computer. “As I was saying…a large number of prisoners have started to act strangely.”
“Strangely,” Inufan says walking up behind Lupin, “like when those prisoners committed suicide?”
“Not exactly,” Lupin says.
Inufan waits for Lupin to elaborate. When he doesn’t, she presses. “Okay then. Like what?”
“They have begun to sing Christmas carols,” Lupin says.
“Christmas carols?”
“It also seems that Kira killing less,” Lupin continues ignoring Inufan. “Far fewer criminals died last night.”
“Well, that’s not a bad thing,” Inufan says.
“It isn’t a good thing,” Lupin says staring at the data flying across his screen.
“How is less killing a bad thing?” Inufan asks.
“I didn’t say that,” Lupin states, “but it will be harder to figure out what Kira is up to.” He lowers his voice. “Maybe these “spontaneous” “carolers” aren’t as spontaneous as they appear.”
“You think Kira might be controlling them?”
“Maybe,” Lupin says. “We know Kira can kill using heart attacks, and there must be some measure of control to force a person t commit suicide. Add to that the unfortunate “accidents” various political figures around the world have been suffering lately and this might just be Kira testing his limits. The thing that worries me is Christmas carols don’t seem like something Kira would do.”
“Maybe Kira just found the Christmas spirit,” Inufan suggest.
“Maybe Kira just has a twisted sense of humor,” Lupin deadpans.
***************************
“I absolutely hate this time of year,” the customer says taking the last package from Mrs. Spooky. “I’ll be happy once Christmas is finally over.”
Mrs. Spooky watches the man walk away. “He could use a good dose of the Christmas spirit.”
“If you traded for the eyes,” Mafia says floating above Mrs. Spooky, “you could easily have his name.”
“Trade for the eyes?”
“Didn’t I tell you about the eye deal?”
“No you didn’t,” Mrs. Spooky says. “You seem to have left a lot out last night.”
“Sorry about that,” Mafia says resting down on the counter. “Anyway, the eye deal is pretty straight forward. You give me a dozen candy canes, peppermint, and I lend you my eyes.”
“Why would I want your eyes?”
“Because they let you see the name of the person…plus the amount of Christmas spirit they have. The Christmas Note won’t work on those who have a ninety percent or higher level.”
“You know it would be nice to have all the information up front,” Mrs. Spooky says. “Why doesn’t the Christmas Note work on those with at least ninety percent?”
“Hey, there are a lot of rules,” Mafia says. “I’m not even sure if I know them all, but to answer your question…the Christmas Note is used to help in spreading the Christmas spirit. Those who already have a high percentage of the Christmas spirit don’t need any help in spreading it.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” Mrs. Spooky says. “So these eyes…”
“Will let you know who can be affected by the Christmas Note, as well as making easier to spread it by knowing their names,” Mafia says. “It’s really cheap too…only a dozen peppermint candy canes.”
Mrs. Spooky grabs a package of candy canes from under the counter, where she keeps her purse, and hands them to Mafia. “Okay. Here’s your dozen candy canes.”
Mafia takes the candy canes. “Close your eyes.” She waits until Mrs. Spooky’s eyes are closed before waving her hands in front of Mrs. Spooky’s face. Glittering snowflakes fall from her hands and melt on Mrs. Spooky’s eyelids. “Open your eyes.”
Mrs. Spooky opens her eyes and floating above every person’s head, she sees the person’s name and a jumble of numbers. Her eyebrows constrict in confusion. “What’s with all the numbers?”
“The numbers tell you how much Christmas spirit they have,” Mafia answers.
“No they don’t,” Mrs. Spooky says. “There are too many numbers to tell me what percentage the person has.”
“Oh, right,” Mafia says. “I forgot. The numbers would be for us Ghosts of Christmas to understand. I’m not sure I know how to translate that into human understanding.”
“So…disregard the numbers,” Mrs. Spooky says sardonically. “I’m so lucky to have you to help me.”
***************************
“Want to tell me what the hell is going on?” Megs asks.
“Hunh?” Groovy lounges on Megs’ bed staring up at the ceiling.
“Don’t play stupid with me,” Megs states turning away from his computer to face the Shinigami. “You were acting strange last night, so I know you have a pretty good idea of what’s happening.”
Groovy sits up on the bed. “What are you talking about?”
“This,” Megs says gesturing behind him at his desk. Groovy stands up and walks over to look over Megs shoulder. “Here is the list of criminals I wrote last night,” Megs explains pointing at the Death Note lying open in front of the computer, “and here is a list of criminals that died.”
Groovy reads the name written in the Death Note before looking at the screen. “Hunh, it seems there is a couple name missing.”
“I figured that much out by myself,” Megs states. “What I want to know is why I don’t see all the names I wrote last night here.” He points to the computer screen.
“That is strange,” Groovy muses. “I only know of a few things that can stop the notebook from working.”
“There are things that can prevent the Death Note from working,” Megs whispers harshly, “and you didn’t think that was information I needed to know.”
Groovy shrugs. “You never asked.”
Megs narrows his eyes at the Shinigami. “Fine…well I’m asking now.”
“Asking what?” Groovy asks with an air of innocence.
Megs closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. After counting to ten, he opens his eyes and calming asks, “What kind of things can prevent the notebook from working?”
“Let’s see,” Groovy muses rubbing his pointed chin, “If the name is misspelled four times the notebook won’t work, or if the person is under 780 days old…according to the human calendar.”
“I don’t think either of those applies here,” Megs states irritated, “seeing as I didn’t misspell the names or try to kill toddlers.”
“Let me think for a minute,” Groovy says. “It’s not like this occurs every day.” Groovy thinks for a few minutes, during which Megs waits impatiently tapping his finger against the desk. “Well,” Groovy finally says, “you can’t kill anyone over 124 either, or people with less than twelve minutes of life left.”
“None of these criminals are older than 124,” Megs states, “and if the notebook wouldn’t work because they didn’t have much time left, they would still be dead.”
“I guess that’s true,” Groovy cedes. “Maybe you used the wrong name. If you tried to kill them by using an alias the Death Note won’t work.”
“I didn’t use an alias,” Megs responds.
“Are you sure?” Groovy asks mischievously.
“Yes,” Megs replies harshly. “I checked, double checked, and cross referenced every police report.”
“But…what if the true name wasn’t listed?” Groovy questions. “What if the police never knew the criminals true name?”
Groovy watches Megs closely, weighing the impact of his words. “The only way you can be certain is to trade for the eyes.”
“No,” Megs says. “I already told you that. Anyway, even if that was a possibility, there are far too many prisoners who didn’t die. I am fully aware, that despite my efforts, there is always the possibility that I may not know the correct name to kill someone…but the chance for that situation is extremely small. No, for this amount of to survive…something else must be going on.”
“If you say so,” Groovy says shrugging his shoulders.
“Is that it then?” Megs asks.
“No,” Groovy says. “It could be that their names were written in another notebook before you wrote them.”
“Another Death Note?”
“Maybe,” Groovy answers. “If the person is written in more than one Death Note, the Note in which the name was written first will take effect.”
“That could explain it,” Megs says, hitting a few keys on the keyboard. “The prisoners who didn’t die are acting strangely.”
“How?”
“They’re all singing Christmas carols,” Megs answers.
“Christmas carols?”
“Yes,” Megs says. “For some reason I don’t see prisoners suddenly bursting with the “Christmas spirit.”” He scrolls down through the names. “Dammit. There might be another notebook.”
Groovy watches as Megs stands up from the computer and crosses the room. At the door he puts on his coat. Groovy glides over to him. “Where are you going?”
“To clear my head,” Megs replies opening the door.
***************************
“He won’t stop singing Christmas carols,” Mr. Bebop says gesturing toward Lover, who is standing in the middle of an aisle trying to stock shelves while singing ‘Santa Claus is coming to Town.’”
“You know, I’ve gotten a lot of compliments on Lover’s singing,” Mrs. Spooky says. “In fact, most of the customers seem to really like.”
Mr. Bebop raises his eyebrows. “Really?”
“Really,” Mrs. Spooky answers. “Many think it’s a nice touch. Most stores only care about the sale, but here they are serenaded with Christmas carols while they shop. It make them feel more in the Christmas spirit…and judging by the number of sales I’ve seen today, I’d say people are spending more too.”
“Hummm,” Mr. Bebop says. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea to have carolers in the store. If Lover’s so intent on singing them, maybe he should be in charge of that.”
“I’m sure he’d be delighted,” Mrs. Spooky says. “I could talk to him for you. Maybe we could hire a couple extras to work with him…like a real caroling troupe.”
“I don’t think hiring more employees is necessary,” Mr. Bebop says.
“If it increases sales, you could more than make up the money for some seasonal help,” Mrs. Spooky presses.
“Seasonal help,” Mr. Bebop muses. “Maybe. I’ll think about it. Anyway…isn’t your sift over?”
“Yep,” says Mrs. Spooky reaching under the counter and pulling out her purse. “I was just getting ready to leave.”
“Good, because I’m not paying you overtime to talk,” Mr. Bebop says walking away.
Mafia follows as Mrs. Spooky clocks out and leaves the store. Outside, she reaches into her purse and pulls out the Christmas Note. “Are you going to write his name down?”
“I should have done this last night,” Mrs. Spooky says, almost to herself, as she flips open the notebook. “If there’s one person who needs to understand the true meaning of Christmas…it’s that man.” She pulls out a pen and writes Mr. Bebop’s name next to a means of expression she wrote in the notebook the night before.
“Can’t argue with you on that,” Mafia says.
Mrs. Spooky puts the notebook back into her purse and turns to leave when a man bumps into her and knocks her down. “Hey,” she cries out in surprise.
“Watch where you’re going,” the man mumbles with his back to her.
“Hey!” Mrs. Spooky yells jumping up. “The least you can do is check to see if I’m okay.”
The man turns around to look at her. “You look just fine to me,” Megs says.
“Thanks for the concern,” Mrs. Spooky says sarcastically watching as Megs walk away from her.
Groovy stares at Mafia, a genuine smile spreading across his twisted face. He looks at Megs, who wanders up the street ahead of him, down at Mrs. Spooky, who’s taking the Christmas Note out of her purse again, and finally up to Mafia. “This is going to be interesting.”
Did you ever look at a picture of yourself and see a stranger in the background? Makes you wonder how many strangers have a picture of you.
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